


the stars are shining (and so are you)

by ev0lution



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (probably not), Alternatively Titled: Jyn and Cassian get to be happy, F/M, Fluff, RebelCaptain May the Fourth Exchange, don't think too hard about the timeline, i didn't, vague injuries, will i ever post a fic without brackets in the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 23:51:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ev0lution/pseuds/ev0lution
Summary: But she didn’t wait for an answer. She was too impatient, lifting back up to kiss him instead, "fragile" and "gentle" repeating in her head. Jyn was too eager, mashing her teeth against his lips at the last second. But then Cassian was smiling against her mouth, adjusting to meet her, moving to do what she meant to.---Written for MayTheFourth RebelcaptainNetwork's exchange, for the lovely Yavemiel's prompt: Jyn and Cassian making their relationship work around the war (with a happy ending please, I have a weakness!)





	the stars are shining (and so are you)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for MayTheFourth RebelcaptainNetwork's exchange, for the lovely Yavemiel's prompt: Jyn and Cassian making their relationship work around the war (with a happy ending please, I have a weakness!)
> 
> She wanted happy. She wanted fluff. She brought this upon herself.
> 
> ...This was FAR too much fun to write.

“But they’re _meant to be_!”

Jyn had her head ducked between her shoulders, staring into the glass in front of her, but lifted her eyes at the exclamation. The rebel base’s bar was busy enough that she wasn’t the only one sittting alone, but still quiet enough to notice a noisy drunk. She glanced towards the shout and found the drunk; he had short dark hair, thick eyebrows. She recognized him. It was one of Bodhi’s friends, a pilot. He had a stupid name, what was it again? Slice? Chunk?

“Alright, Wedge, you’ve had enough,” one of the other pilots said, hauling him to his shaky feet. That one she knew on sight. Baby blue eyes and blond hair, he was so green she could practically _smell_ it on him. But she couldn’t judge. She had tenderfoot to thank for destroying her father’s death machine, after all.

The memory bit at her throat like a knife. She’d thrown up. While everyone else was celebrating the explosion of the Death Star – and their suddenly extended lives – Jyn took two steps out of command and hurled, splattering vomit all over the hall, getting it on her chin, all over her boots. She had almost choked on it, sobbing so hard and so suddenly that she would’ve crashed to the ground, if not for Cassian.

 She doubted that the base would continue to find her so heroic if they knew that the Great Jyn Erso’s first reaction to the blowing of the Death Star was to vomit all over herself.

Jyn picked up her drink, bumped it against her bottom lip, then took a gulp. The bile in her throat went back down with the Flameout, but the swallow still felt like a mistake.

 _Antilles_ her brain supplied, helpfully repressing the Death Star memory. (She was good at that: repressing things. She’d had a lot of practice.)

But Antilles – Wedge Antilles, that was his name. That was the pilot who’d accompanied Tenderfoot, the only one to make it back from the squadron, aside from the leader. She remembered him from training, where he got a nice shiner because he favoured his right side, and she remembered that he carried a lucky knife in his boot, but she didn’t remember his dumb name. It was a proper Outer Rim name. Something only desert farmers with too much time on their hands would think up.

Her selective memory was probably residue of the Partisans, lurking in her mind like the Bor Gullet’s slime; she always remembered a face, and remembered threats even better, but names weren’t important. They changed all the time. Jyn knew that well, too. After all, she’d only very rarely been Jyn Erso in her short, violent life, drifting between Lianna and Tanith and a hundred other names, picked up and dropped off as easily as Saw had dumped her.

Jyn worked her tongue between her teeth, trying to free a piece of dinner and stomping down that memory too. Farm boy was trying to haul the increasingly emotional Wedge out of the bar. He paused, swaying dangerously to the right, feet planted but the rest of his body almost vertical, tilting like a sapling in the wind.

“They’re _meant to be_ , Luke,” Wedge insisted weepily. “The _Force_ even thinks so.”

“Sure thing, Wedge,” Luke replied with a strained smile, looking somewhat overwhelmed with the handful of pilot he’d inherited. “I think you should go to bed.”

“They suh-say there was this big,” Wedge paused, his lips pressing together warningly. The moment passed, “Big red light and – and then the Force jus – jus’ _stopped_ it, because it saw them on the buh – buh – _beach_.”

Jyn’s stomach calcified as Tenderfoot tried to usher Wedge out with a new urgency, glancing back at her with worry. Someone in the bar had noticed her after all. She clenched her jaw and met his eye, forcing herself to hold it, training holding her where instinct wanted to run. She was grateful when Wedge stumbled and farm boy had to bring his attention back to the big, dumb drunk on his arm.

That was a new one – the Force had cut out the big bad red light to save them. She’d heard all kinds of rumors based around them. Some that were more exaggerations than lies – Cassian had climbed after her with twelve broken ribs, rather than four, Baze had a tank rather than a cannon. But the outright lies, the pure fantasies were more common: Chirrut had stopped blaster shots with his mind, Bodhi had dodged twenty grenades, Jyn’s necklace made a force field that protected them all. It was all bullshit. Jyn was so tired of being looked at, like she was a tragedy or a hero. She wasn’t either of those things. She was just bad at dying, and maybe due for some luck. Every one of those rumors undercut what Rogue One _actually_ did, what heroics _actually_ were performed.

The light had been green, not red. And the Force did jack shit. What protected them was Bodhi’s quick thinking, and Kay’s huge, osseous hand, yanking her so hard into their ship that it dislocated her shoulder. If it _had_ been the Force that saved them, she was pretty sure that it wouldn’t have been the last act of Kay’s last body, having summed up just enough energy to save Cassian and Jyn before it disintegrated under all the blasts it sustained. If it _had_ been the Force, they should’ve been able to recover more than a damaged memory card. If it _had_ been the Force, it wouldn’t have taken them all that time to find a new body for Kay, and then all the time it took repairing the hard drive. And that was just considering Kay. Less than a quarter of the people that signed up for the mission survived it. If the Force gave such a shit, more people would’ve made it home.

She had started to bristle anytime someone mentioned the F-word. She was probably spending too much time with Baze.

Jyn returned to the anchor of her drink, missing her usual anchor enough to drag it out, even though the taste reminded her vaguely of Wookie piss. Solo had sent it over earlier, but Jyn knew him well enough to know that a drink suddenly appearing in front of her had nothing to do with Jyn, and everything to do with the princess’ presence as she was suddenly in the doorway, well-dressed and furious. Solo had taken one look at her and turned on a tractor beam, waving an obnoxious, Wookie-piss-tasting flare to make yelling at _him_ irresistible. Solo had a very specific taste in women, and some increasingly obvious kinks. All of them included the brown-eyed beauty next to him, face flushed and teeth as white as they were sharp.

Solo had been the only one that had dared to interact with Jyn, even from across the bar. The seats on either side of her had been empty all night. Bodhi had night shift patrol, and Baze and Chirrut had turned in early, with plans to lead one of their younger classes of recruits into the snow at dawn – _to see if they survive_ Chirrut had said cheerily, but it had been Baze’s smile that worried her.

Cassian was off-planet, on a mission that he couldn’t tell her anything about, and every minute that passed felt more and more certain that something awful had happened. The missions he couldn’t tell her about were the most dangerous ones, deep in Imperial territory with only a well-crafted false identity to back him up.

Jyn looked at the clock above the bar. Six standard hours. He would be back in six stand hours, so long as all went to plan.

It was some comfort to know that Kay was just as lost as she was. He had followed her around all day, spouting _The Captain asked me to take care of Jyn Erso and so I am supervising her until his return_ at anyone that so much as looked at him. Not many people did, probably held back by Jyn’s black mood and Kay’s well-known affect of making everyone he met want to punch him. He didn’t like these missions either, when even he wasn’t allowed to accompany Cassian. But he was in need of a charge, leaving Jyn alone for the night.

Wedge was long gone, but she could feel the eyes on her from the pilot’s table. The previously boisterous table had quieted ominously, frying Jyn’s paranoia. Hyperaware of every look sent her way, every word snatched in a whisper, too low for her to hear, she was on the edge of her seat for thirty full seconds before she lurched out of it. She caught a snatch of _red light_ and was on her feet in a second, knocking back her drink in the same movement. She paused, regretting it. That was a sipping drink, _not_ a shot.

She shut her eyes, forcing the room to right itself again. The second it did, she was off.

Jyn huddled down in her scarf as she walked through the snowy halls, weaving cleanly around the skeleton crew that ran Hoth base at night. She didn’t envy them, for once gladly pulling the hero card to miss the same fate. Her toes and fingers were frozen by the time she reached the room, though it had only been a few minutes.

The room wasn’t technically hers, but she’d known the code since she’d landed on base almost five standard months ago. Cassian hadn’t given it to her directly; he just stood to the left of the touch pad and entered the numbers slowly, glancing back as he did. Knowing her thief’s eyes would catch the combination. She locked the combination back deep in her heart, and slotting it in with a memory of him stepping closer, orbiting her, and offering her a place right before they flew off to die.

The room wasn’t quite as chilly as the hall, but Jyn was still reluctant to shed her scarf. She unwound it carefully. There was snow on it, and the last thing Jyn wanted to do was sleep with something wet. There were two hooks by the door, one newer than the other, and installed with the screwdriver in Kay’s finger, rather than by the crew that carved the base out of snow and durasteel. Jyn hung her scarf on the newer hook, fiddling with the scarf so that it was evenly draped, stalling. The room was too cold, too empty. But she’d promised.

Jyn looked at the scarf. That was new, too, her last left in a ship that had blown and nearly taken Bodhi with it. The new one was emerald green and black, stitched together in an intricate pattern that was beautiful, but in an understated way. Nothing that would make anyone stop and stare, but if one had the chance to look closer, they would see just how delicate the pattern was, full of trees and vines and tiny black flowers. She had come back to the room one night to find it folded on her pillow. That was how she knew he was home that particular night.

She still caught Cassian staring at it, sometimes, hanging by the door. It was usually after he got out of the sonic, where she knew he repeated mission details back to himself over and over as he committed them to memory. He would come out, bundled up again and head full of the rebellion, and pause, staring as the scarf sent his attention in another direction. Surprised at its presence. But Jyn understood; sometimes, she would catch sight of her boots and feel a sharp shot of insecurity, taking in their fraying laces, the leather scuffed beyond belief, tilting to the sides without her feet to hold their shape. They were a mess compared to Cassian’s boots, always lined up beside hers when they were both home, orderly and shined in the way the military preferred. Their uniforms could be a mess, and they could be exhausted, but soldiers always shined their boots. It took an earthquake to tear soldiers from that habit.

Jyn figured she’d stalled as long as she could, the alcohol starting to settle in her body, tricking her into warmth. The winning argument wasn’t her own tiredness, but the thought that if she got into bed now, it would be warm for him when he got home. That was the thought that had her moving towards the bed, thinking of the way his fingers were always cold on Hoth, of the way he’d shiver at night if he went to bed without her. She trudged to the bed and tugged at her laces until they loosened enough for her to yank her feet out. She didn’t shuck any more layers, sliding under the stiff, cold blanket regretfully. When she shut her eyes, she saw Wedge again, _but they’re meant to be,_ and she pressed her face into the cold pillow.

It was still new, this fragile, gentle thing between her and Cassian. Or, it was more accurate to say that the acknowledgement of it was still new. Chirrut said they’d been orbiting each other for months, and that they had been scheduled for a collision since they’d met. _Scheduled by who_ had been answered by a smile from Chirrut, and a groan from Baze. Chirrut had not otherwise answered, knowing the question was more dare than curiosity. But the F-word did not fall from his lips.

This _orbit_ , this _collision_ , this… Jyn had no proper name for it. The growing bridge between them, made of dangerous, foreign things, like _trust_ and _safety_ and _care_ – it terrified Jyn; she’d never been gentle, or good at handling fragile things. But Cassian was patient, and just as awkward. It made things easier.

She rolled onto her back, half-wishing she’d been as much of a lightweight as she was when she was twelve, when one of the Partisans gave her a sip of something that tasted like Hutt sweat, and she’d fallen asleep nearly immediately. But she had no such luck. Moonshine and whiskey were often easier to come by than water with the Partisans, and alcohol ceased to have an effect a long time ago. Even the warmth from the drink was fading fast, making her think that she’d just tricked herself into it.

She should just go find Kay. Or hit the gym. She wasn’t going to get any shut eye, and she’d tried, which was as much as she’d promised. Cassian didn’t go on missions alone often – this was only his third since Scarif. Usually, he brought at least Kay with him. Draven had promised him that solo missions would be rare, because of his back and his leg, and how the collection of implants in his spine and femur made him more vulnerable to Imperial security scans. So far, Draven had held up his end of the bargain, but she still trusted him as far as she could throw him, and she guessed that was about two feet, if they were speaking horizontally, not vertically. She could very easily throw him off a cliff, for example.

 _But they’re meant to be_. They barged back into her mind, a battering ram on a once-strong door. She couldn’t get those dumb words out of her head. It wasn’t like it was a secret, not exactly. They just didn’t advertise anything. They weren’t exactly casual people, who would openly share intimacies with others. No one else knew that Cassian had asked permission to kiss her when he stumbled on her in droid maintenance, where she was elbow deep in Kay’s chassis and covered in grease. No one else knew that he’d looked at her like she’d hung the damn stars when she’d been trying to fit the memory drive into the new KX droid she’d stolen, and no one knew that the answer to his question was a little breathless. But Bodhi knew something had happened, and Baze did too. Chirrut tried to convince her that he knew about the kiss before they did. Kay figured it out on the day that Jyn rebooted him, but the fact that they were kissing when his visual sensors loaded was probably what gave it away.

No one else knew (outside of Rogue One) because no one else needed to, damn it.

 _But they’re meant to be_. That was exactly why they had kept it quiet. Jyn wasn’t used to people looking at her, let alone prying into her life. She’d survived the years after Saw by sliding under the radar, by being faceless and nameless. Suddenly being a focal point of the Rebellion was overwhelming, like watching the Death Star blow all over again.

It was worse for Cassian; at least Jyn had the years of Partisan-style sabotage under her belt, which was just as showy as it was dangerous. She could deal with the looks, so long as they remained distant. Cassian had existed in the shadows since he was recruited by Draven at fourteen. That was why they’d agreed to keep it quiet. It wasn’t hard. They’d never had personal space with each other, so nothing changed there, and any other physical markers of their relationship were kept behind closed doors.

It was _theirs_ ; they didn’t want to share with anyone else.

Privacy was one of their rules. Jyn had never been one for rules, but Cassian followed them religiously. They gave him stability in a rebellion that often lacked gravity, coordinates in the nebulous cause they fought for. She was starting to find use in them too. She didn’t sleep with a blaster tucked under her pillow anymore, because of a close incident that she didn’t like to think about. Cassian wasn’t the one to implement that rule.

Jyn rolled on to her side again, pulling the blanket up to her chin. It was getting warmer with her body heat, bigger and thicker than the one she’d left behind in her old bunk. The benefit of Cassian’s rank. But not even the warmth was enough to coax her to stay, the bed too wide and empty, that it just made her stomach twist into nervous knots.

She had just resolved to get back out of bed and trudge to the training room when the door slid open, admitting a shadow. Jyn sat up immediately, nearly sliding out of her bed before Cassian strode forward quickly, stopping her before she could plant her socked feet on the frozen ground.

Jyn searched his face eagerly, looking for any sign of injury, but was unsatisfied in the low light. She smacked the light switch by the bed so hard that it was audible, returning to him immediately. He’d left clean shaven almost twenty standard hours ago, but his stubble was already back, scratching her hand lightly as she examined him.

“I’m okay, Jyn. I completed the objective early,” he said, and the knot in Jyn’s stomach loosened a little. Her shoulders relaxed, and Cassian lifted a hand to her cheek, her mirror. His eyes darted over her face, performing the same exam she’d just finished. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

Jyn raised an eyebrow, taking in the way he was holding himself, easily and not painfully, and she sunk down a little more. “Have _you_?” But she didn’t wait for an answer. She was too impatient, lifting back up to kiss him instead, _fragile_ and _gentle_ repeating in her head. Jyn was too eager, mashing her teeth against his lips at the last second. But then Cassian was smiling against her mouth, adjusting to meet her, moving to do what she meant to. Jyn slid her arms around his shoulders, pulling him down into the bed.

“Welcome home,” she said quietly, when he pulled back to yank off his boots. He smiled and abandoned the shoes, leaving them in a heap to kiss her again.

///

The Rebellion didn’t seem to know what to do with Rogue One, equal parts technical mutineers and war heroes. By the time everyone had been cleared for duty, the Council decided not to punish them, which was something at least. Curiously, the day that decision came out was the same one that Leia returned to command.

Baze and Chirrut took up teaching recruits after someone mentioned the mentoring they used to do at the Jedha temple. Within days, they had a swarm of newbies following them around everywhere, asking endless questions, moon-eyed at every metaphor that fell out of Chirrut’s mouth, and every rare syllable that dropped from Baze’s.

Bodhi ended up with the fighter pilots, his respectable simulator scores backed by the maneuvers he pulled when he rescued them all from Scarif. Jyn herself couldn’t remember them; all she remembered from the flight back was two circles: one was Baze’s voice, repeating the same words over and over again over Chirrut, and the other was Cassian’s breath, stopping and starting so often that every change felt like Krennic’s blaster, shooting her over and over and over again. But whatever Bodhi had done, it gained him a certain tenderfooted admirer, so Jyn knew that if he wasn’t with Rogue One, the chances were good that she could guess who he _was_ with. That shadow gained Bodhi the respect of anyone he didn’t convince over Scarif, and the pilots embraced him quickly under Jyn’s watchful eye.

Of course, Cassian and Kay remained in Intelligence, the former operating in briefing capacities before he was cleared for field work. That left Jyn; she was the obvious wild card. No one seemed to know what to do with her very specific skill set, which ranged from thievery to sabotage to slicing, and that didn’t even take account for all the schematics Saw had her memorize, giving her intimate knowledge of a quarter of the Imperial strongholds in the Outer Rim.

They tried her out in the army first, where her introverted and aggressive personality didn’t win her any points. Especially not in the tight-knit army, where kinship was placed at the forefront. She was passed off to the Pathfinders next, which was better; they were probably the closest thing the Rebellion had to the Partisans, and Jyn found a niche there, with people that she respected and that showed her respect in return. But then a request came in for her transfer to Intelligence, the section in need of a good splicer, and Jyn had presented the highest scores in her recruitment class. Jyn wasn’t sure who the request surprised more, herself or Draven. Cassian didn’t seem surprised in the slightest, however; he had just smiled at her in a way she’d meant to ask about.

She still accepted the transfer, because her commanding officer was listed on the request.

Unfortunately, even with Cassian acting as her commanding officer, Draven was still head of Intelligence and that meant he oversaw all her field assignments. She was base-bound far more often than she’d like. At the very least, on the missions she was assigned, she was almost always paired with Cassian; Draven seemed torn between thinking Cassian could handle her, while at the same time thinking she led Cassian astray.

She’d expressed her frustration over being base-bound to Bodhi, while they were tuning up one of the X-Wings – another one of the odd skills she’d picked up with Saw. Bodhi had smiled wryly enough for her to ask about it.

“I mean,” he’d said, his new mechanical fingers twitching a little because he wasn’t wearing his protective gloves. Jyn hadn’t realized the hand was gone until she woke out of sedation a few days after Scarif, because he’d kept the stump tucked in his flight suit during their escape. It was half out of a desire to protect everyone’s fragile sanity, half out of shock that it’d been blown up in the first place. “The first mission Draven put you on was supposed to be recon, and you demolished a squadron of troopers _and_ brought a hostile Imperial droid back with you instead.”

Jyn had mumbled, fighting with her wrench on a too-tight bolt. “I still got the information.” Her elbow popped out, knocking hard into his arm. “I couldn’t figure out how to disable the droid without damaging it. And you’re happy to have Kay back, aren’t you?”

Bodhi smiled again, “But you didn’t exactly follow orders.” He twisted left, dodging her elbow that time.

So Jyn floated around odd jobs instead, catching missions every week or so, but never ones that were scheduled to last more than six hours. She was sent assignments on her datapad every morning – training recruits one day, splicing stolen equipment another, picking apart Imperial codes the next. At least it never grew monotonous. Every day was new, and it kept her on her toes. But a familiar itch was starting to prick between her shoulders. She wanted to commit some violence.

That was why, when her morning notes included a briefing, she felt a fluttering in her stomach, like the starting hum of a ship’s engine, or the feeling that washed over her when Cassian looked at her like he did in droid maintenance.

Jyn slid into the rapidly filling briefing room, slipping around Han and Leia’s latest argument to find a space beside Bodhi. He was one of the pilots for the mission, with Solo in charge. The briefing was only a preliminary meeting between Intelligence and the Pathfinders, who were forming a joint strike team to perform a hit on an Imperial factory on Onderon.

Jyn was turning out to be a lynch pin for the operation; on top of the time she’d spent in both factions, she’d also lived on Onderon with Saw. She knew of a bunker they’d left behind, filled with all the explosives that the Pathfinders would need to hit the factory.

People buzzed in the room. Jyn was uncharacteristically early, and had the opportunity to watch people walk in a take seats, sizing them up as she got her first look at the other people that would be joining her on the mission. She recognized more people, now that she had faces to pair with the names on the message.

The door slid open one last time, admitting Cassian. She’d tease him about beating him to the briefing later, keeping an eye on his gait as he strode to the center of the room. But his leg was moving smoothly, and there was no stiffness held in his spine. He looked up from his datapad as Bodhi waved and he nodded in acknowledgement. His eyes shifted to Jyn in a look that she felt in her ribs, pressing its way to meet her thumping heart.

A second later, his attention was returned to his datapad, professionalism overtaking his features. Jyn was fairly certain the seconds had been missed by everyone, except Bodhi, who bumped his shoulder against hers with a smile. A week after she and Cassian had gotten together, Bodhi had found her in the mess and gave her the same smile.

“You make each other happy,” Bodhi had said, “And you each deserve that.”

Jyn just shook her head, shaking off the same smile she did then. Her teeth had to pin her top lip, because it started to creep up again.

Cassian began the debrief, running through the basics. Jyn sat back and listened to his outline of the planet, the climate and people, and the Imperial weapons factory that was their target. She was only half-listening, knowing this information because she’d lived it. She was more interested in watching his hands, curled around his datapad, and thinking about the fact that he was ambidextrous, and how she’d learned about that…

She shook herself from that thought, and tried to focus back on the briefing. He wasn’t reading off his datapad, though he held it, because he’d briefed himself that morning while Jyn was in the sonic. She could hear him through the door while she got dressed, repeating it over and over to himself, locking every detail into his durasteel trap of a memory.

“The biggest problem is the flight security on the planet, established in response to Gerrera’s rebels,” Cassian said. He glanced down at his datapad quickly, and Jyn lifted a hand to lean her chin on, hiding her smile. That must’ve been the point he got to, before she’d poked her head out of the door to ask him to get her a towel. Her real intentions hadn’t been so innocent.

Cassian continued, hardly a second hitched from his presentation, but Jyn noticed the careful way he didn’t look at her. “We’ll be able to smuggle in a small strike team, including two pilots, two Pathfinders, and two Intelligence officers. Captain Solo will take the lead of the strike teams. Three objectives will need to be completed before the mission is complete: security in the North tower will have to be taken out, the explosives will be smuggled in and planted there. However, there is no chance that we could get the amount of explosives that we need on the planet, not after Gerrera’s rebels necessitated increased security.” His eyes finally went to Jyn, “Which is where Sergeant Erso comes in.”

Jyn held his eye and straightened her shoulders, tilting her chin up. Cassian mimicked her, standing a bit taller.

“Saw Gerrera’s rebels had to evacuate the planet quickly, and he left behind a bunker of weapons and explosives. Sergeant Erso will lead the way to Gerrera’s bunker, hidden deep within the forest here,” he pointed to a map. “We have reason to believe that the bunker is not just intact but also untouched, as everyone who knew about the bunker either had to flee the planet, or died trying to do so. Sergeant Erso is confident that she can find it again; as she was just a child when they left, it is unlikely she will be recognized.

He looked at her again when he said _unlikely_ , that part a stuck point between them. Cassian was worried that it was too big of a risk. He was convinced that it put Jyn’s life too casually into danger. But he trusted her, too, and wouldn’t fight with her over it. He respected her judgement too much for that.

One of the Pathfinders raised his hand, a man with a neatly-trimmed mustache. Jyn didn’t know him beyond his name, but she knew his wife. She could respect anyone Shara Bey deemed worthy enough for her. “Gerrera was a nutcase,” Dameron said, and Jyn confirmed his good judgement, at least. “That place has got to be defended with a whole host of booby traps.”

Cassian looked to Jyn, “Could you speak to that?”

Jyn nodded, putting her elbows on her knees and leaning around Bodhi to face Dameron. “There’s definitely traps, I helped set them. A few kinds of bear traps, along with pressure triggers that can and will send the whole bunker up. But I helped set them, and I was there when Saw designed them. You step where I step, and we’ll be fine.” Dameron nodded, sending her a smile for her response.

“Sounds good,” he said, “Thanks, Erso.” Jyn nodded.

“Erso’s in charge?” An officer she didn’t recognize spoke up, looking incredulous. He was round with dyed pink hair, a dark inch growing back in. Jyn eyed him, spotting the name _Mitchell_ sewn across his chest. He looked at Cassian, “She’s been here what, a few months? And she’s leading a strike team?”

Jyn ground her teeth down, but kept silent, fixing him with her best glare. She couldn’t see Cassian’s expression, as he was turned away from her, but his spine straightened incrementally. He took a careful step towards Mitchell and Jyn saw his hands, clasped behind him, holding tightly to his datapad.

“Sergeant Erso is the best combatant I have ever encountered,” Cassian’s voice was low, but he may as well have been shouting. There had been a low buzz of noise in the room: clothes brushing as people moved, fingers typing on datapads, a handful of whispers. But now, it was all gone, the room still and silent. Cassian continued, “Without Sergeant Erso, I would be dead three times over. Jyn’s hands are more than capable.”

Jyn didn’t miss it, and by the way the room stayed silent, neither did they. It wasn’t the praise that had her pausing, though that would have been enough on its own. The most intimate part about the slip wasn’t the compliment; it was the use of her given name in place of her rank, her name spilling out of his mouth like honey. He said it like he kissed, and it had Jyn flushed down her neck. Saying her name like that, in front of all those people, felt like breaking a rule. But Jyn knew how she felt about rebellion.

Cassian turned away to ask for questions, but the room remained quiet, so he reviewed a few more details – climate again, like he was trying to return their attention to the mission before he dismissed them. The room erupted back into noise, and Jyn watched Mitchell make a beeline for the door, moving so quickly that he bumped into Organa. Leia had been shooting after Solo, but turned her fiery eyes on Mitchell instead.

Bodhi’s hand pulled her attention to him, touching her forearm. “I’ll catch up,” she told him. He smiled and patted her knee, but didn’t tease her. She watched him stroll out of the room, then watched the rest of the room empty out, hanging back in her seat until it was just her and Cassian. He had his back to her, gathering his datapad and a stack of flimsy together off the table.

Jyn stayed in her seat and watched his hands. He gathered up the flimsy into a neat stack, as meticulous as he always was with her. He shut off the holo he’d used to display the map, dimming the room a little, but also washing Cassian in more natural light, highlighting the jut of his cheekbones and taking away the green tint it had dyed his skin. When he turned to face her, he was smiling a little, lifting his eyes to meet her. Jyn straightened, mirroring his position from her chair.

“Sergeant,” he said, his face serious, professional. “Did you have a question?”

It made her smile, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees. “More of a comment. Sir,” she tacked on the end, smiling a little wider when she saw Cassian’s professionalism slip, swallowing at the address. She filed that information away carefully, intent on making use of it later.

“Well, Sergeant,” Cassian said finally, “I always welcome critique.”

Jyn nearly laughed. Like she had anything bad to say about him. She ran her tongue over her teeth then stood, watching Cassian’s professionalism slip again with delight. She stepped down on to the first riser, leaving her just above Cassian’s eye level. She reached out and he stepped forward immediately, letting her catch her fingers in the open zipper of his jacket.

“Thank you,” she said, voice low. A year ago – hell, months ago, before Scarif, swallowing her pride like that would have never happened. She never would’ve accepted defense from someone. But nearly being swallowed up in a death ray put a lot of things into perspective. One of them was this: she was grateful for someone who stuck around, whether that meant scaling a tower with a spine and femur in shards, or saying her name like it was something beautiful.

Cassian smiled up at her, reaching to brush his thumb across her jaw.

“What you said about Saw,” he said, “A fighter with a sharp stick can win the day? I’m not convinced he wasn’t talking about you.”

Jyn locked her fingers around his jacket tightly, pulling him towards her.

///

Jyn’s arm collided with Cassian’s as they walked down the busy street, adjusting to keep their arms together rather than rebounding off like she would’ve with anyone else. Actually – with anyone outside of Rogue One, Jyn wouldn’t get close enough to even accidentally brush. Not even on the streets of Nal Hutta, which were more crowded than she’d remembered.

Jyn based her expectations off a dangerous three days she’d spent there with Saw, supplemented with the briefing she’d mostly missed. She had tried to pay attention, she really did – but anytime Draven opened his frog-like mouth, it wafted a stench that rivalled a sweaty Hutt, and Jyn’s energy was devoted to thinking about where in the galaxy she could get a mint the size of a star destroyer.

Her attention span hadn’t been helped by Cassian next to her, his hand dropping to her knee the second she stiffened at Draven’s stench. If that hadn’t been distracting enough, his thumb travelled continuously in a half-circle, tracing out the edge of her knee cap. Saw, or whatever was left of him, was probably rolling at such a moon-eyed reaction, but Jyn couldn’t help herself. She didn’t hear a word of Draven’s pollution after that.

She couldn’t make herself feel bad about it, either, not after watching Chirrut and Baze in action. Their reliance on one another was never a weakness. They covered one another’s blind spots, worked off each other’s strengths. It made them better. Her shoulder collided with Cassian’s again, and she couldn’t help but feel that the same went for them.

“Who’s the contact again?” Jyn asked, keeping her eye on a pair of bucket heads rounding the corner ahead of them. Nal Hutta wasn’t supposed to have an Imperial presence, the nearest base too far and the crime too high to bother with a crackdown. More likely, there was probably some Imperial tycoon touring the planet and its seedy weapons market, and the troopers were there to keep an eye on things.

Cassian shook his head a little, but it was fond, rather than annoyed. “I believe that was the very first thing Draven told us.”

Jyn strummed her fingers on her truncheons, mind on the troopers but eyes on Cassian’s struggle to keep his smile down. She said, “Grab him a mint, and I’ll learn how to focus.”

His hand ghosted the small of her back, the troopers stopping and watching the crowd. “Her name is Kor Veela, she’s Falleen,” Cassian said. Jyn eyed him – a Falleen named Kor Veela from Kor Vella? “She’s reliable,” Cassian insisted, reading her mind. “If a poor liar.”

Jyn nodded, knowing the rest. Veela was a smuggler with rebel-leanings, but didn’t see any profit in enlisting, and found handing off information as a contact far more prosperous. They were to meet her in a crime den located in the heart of the capital, but the walk through the city felt more like a trudge through a swamp. The streets were covered in half a thumb of water, soaking through her old boots in minutes. The air was so thick with humidity and stink that it was nearly hard to breathe. Jyn didn’t lift her scarf over her face, however, knowing it would immediately mark her as an outsider, and an easy target.

Jyn had limited experience with Nal Hutta, but Cassian had spent a few weeks undercover there, playing an Imperial officer with a taste for gambling. It was before she knew him, but he’d told her about it on the ride over, about the weeks spent around a gambling table constantly drench in sweat and grime, all for an outdated list of Imperial sympathizers on Alderaan. For all his usual purpose, he seemed twice as driven, like he was looking to even the score of the failed mission. Jyn was glad she’d been assigned to go with him, firstly because she always was glad when she was assigned to missions with him, and secondly because she could keep an eye on him.

They had to separate at the bar, Jyn taking a turn around the block before following after him. She clocked four figures on nearby roofs, but all were out in the open, making no effort to hide. Guards watching for rival gangs, maybe. More likely, on the payroll of whatever crime boss ran the bar, acting as pseudo-security. If anything, they meant that a thrown punch would probably escalate into a full riot if they weren’t careful.

The way the doorman opened the door slot to leer at her rather than ask for a code set her on alert immediately. She reminded herself what being in Hutt territory meant for her. _The galaxy is twice as dangerous for women_ Saw used to warn her, _So you must be thrice as dangerous as the galaxy_.

The knife up her sleeve would fly nicely into the doorman’s eye, but she was wanting for a proper hilted knife. She’d like to pluck it back out. No use wasting a perfectly good knife if she didn’t have to.

He eventually let her in, eating up precious minutes that left Cassian’s back open. He only let her in to try to maneuver into the path of her shoulder, and her chest. Jyn saw it coming, her foot a hammer as it came down on his, locking his knee back as she pounded that too. She left him swearing on the step, clomping past him into the bar.

She took stock of the bar as she walked in eyes glancing over Cassian casually, his back to a corner opposite of the door. There wasn’t any water on the floor, like there was outside, and the bar was just off-center, next to a dance floor full of humans and twi’leks, Hutts gliding predatorily along the edges. It stunk like sweat, the air so thick that a lesser woman would’ve gagged on it.

Jyn walked casually to the bar, making sure she had views of both the door and Cassian from her seat, unobstructed by the dance floor. The light was sickly green, and everything was sweating, from the booze to the sentients to the damn bar itself, the humidity worsened by the low ceiling and the jam-packed sentients.

“Everything alright?” Cassian’s voice in her ear, picking up her belated entry. Jyn glanced back at the doorman, who had resumed his place at the door, like women annihilated his leg every time they entered. Judging by the way he lingered on the door slot, it was going to happen again.

“Clear,” Jyn said, waving down the bartender.  

The first hour passed quickly, knowing they’d arrived early. Jyn would’ve rather spent the time alone, but Cassian’s gentle reminder to blend in allowed a man who’d approached her to stay for ten minutes, and the twi’lek woman that offered her a drink twenty.

“What brings you to Nal Hutta?” The twi’lek asked, twirling the stick of cherries in her drink.

“Business,” Jyn replied, keeping an eye on Cassian. Her answer was a little too curt, but Jyn had never been good at flirting. That was the one training session Saw hadn’t let her in on, maybe out of the fatherly affection he’d fostered for her, but more likely he’d recognized the absolute tauntan she made of herself anytime she’d tried to flirt, and knew it’d be a waste of everyone’s time.

“How about you?” Jyn remembered to ask, and that had the woman’s blue lips twisting into a gorgeous smile, detailing a story about a dance competition in another bar, where she’d won enough to buy a shiny new ship.

The twi’lek moved on soon enough. Jyn watched four different women go speak to Cassian and a couple lingered, but none stayed. Jyn heard everything they said, and knew it wasn’t for lack of request. Anytime someone tried, he told them he was waiting for someone.

“I thought we were blending in,” Jyn said into the comm, watching the fourth woman strike out. Cassian took a drink, stalling while the woman walked away.

“Veela knows I’m here,” he replied, “She doesn’t know about you.”

They sat there for another couple hours, the music cranking louder and louder, the place filling steadily until Jyn’s view of Cassian was obstructed by people spilling out from the dance floor. Jyn watched a pair of Hutts exchange a suspicious-looking datapad, and a woman hand off a suitcase the size of Jyn’s torso and, roughly, a staccato lightning cannon. Jyn counted about eleven crimes in direct violation of Imperial code before Cassian’s voice buzzed in her ear.

“She’s a no show,” he said, “I’m calling it off. You leave first. Take a turn the same as before. I’ll follow in five.”

Jyn nodded, glancing over to look directly at Cassian for the first time since she’d entered. His jaw was tight in a way that would’ve been completely unnoticeable to her when he first flew them to Jedha, but now, she could spot it from across the bar. Another failure on Nal Hutta. It wasn’t his fault, but it was exactly the kind of thing that Cassian would lift onto his shoulders.

“Heard,” she responded, holding herself back from saying anything else. She would comfort him without doing it over an earpiece, when he heard her voice firsthand, and not over a vaguely scratching signal. Where she could touch him.

Jyn slid off her stool, turning her eyes to the door, and froze. A man with dark hair stepped inside, a shock of white cracking through it. It was the kind you got when shot with a lightning blaster, but your opponent’s aim was off a little because she was running and she fired over her shoulder, so the blast only grazed the top of your head.

Two men followed in behind him, close enough to be clear that they were together. Jyn sized them up – big, mean, nothing she couldn’t handle. But Dax – that was the one she was worried about. They’d trained together; she learned how to throw a punch with him. He knew her blindspots, her favoured moves.

But she knew his, she reminded herself, rocking back on her heels. She knew he favoured his left ankle. She knew he was bad at ducking. Besides, that was all years ago. She’d learned a thing or two since then. She’d gained since then.

“What’s wrong?” Cassian asked, noticing her stance.

Either Dax had an alarm for her presence, or he felt her glare, because he turned immediately to the bar where she was sitting. He smiled when he spotted her, was still missing that tooth, too; it brought her a grim satisfaction, considering that Jyn still had the indent on her elbow where she’d collided it with his face.

Jyn swore, picking up her glass to cover her lips.

“Who is it?” Cassian asked, apparently spotting him. Jyn almost laughed, half maniacal. Maybe it was panic, but something about that seemed hilarious. Dax was a lot of things: an ex-Partisan, a traitor, an asshole.

“My ex,” she answered, watching him with wary eyes. “It didn’t end well.”

It was like déjà vu, watching Dax walk towards her from across a crowded bar. Last time she’d done that, it had been because Jyn had caught him inquiring about the bounty on one Jyn Erso’s head. She ran to Saw, who looked at her incredulously and told her to take care of it. But she’d been fifteen, head clouded with betrayal and heart break, and she made mistakes. Saw bailed her out at the last second. She didn’t hear the end of that one, not until she heard the end from him, abandoned in a bunker on Tamsye Prime.

Since joining the rebellion, Jyn had learned from her mistakes.

Cassian’s voice again. In the corner of her eye, he hadn’t moved, not even as Dax started to navigate the bar to reach her. “How do you want to play this?”

Jyn watched Dax get closer, setting her cup back down on the counter. “Dirty,” she replied.

It wasn’t a code for a rebel maneuver, or some kind of elaborate plan. It was just something that Cassian would understand.

Dax stopped beside her, smiling. It was really a shame about that tooth. He used to be handsome, before Jyn elbowed it straight out of his jaw. Being a giant traitor didn’t help his looks, either.

“Dax,” she said, eyeing the two man that walked in the bar after him. His first mistake: he left them at a table, six feet away. A lot could happen in six feet.

“Jyn,” Dax said, crossing his arms, “Fancy –“

Jyn had learned from her mistakes. Last time, she spent too much time talking.

Jyn launched herself at him, a feral cat as she slapped her hands to the side of his head. She used all her strength to slam it down into the bar, feeling a satisfying crack, immediately followed by Dax’s body going limp. Dax crumpled and Jyn jumped over the bar, Dax’s friend lifting a blaster out of the corner of her eye. She dropped down behind the bar just as she heard blaster fire. But Dax’s friends hadn’t been that fast; the blast that flew over her head came in the opposite direction from the door.

The bar was in an uproar in seconds, a consequence of the seedy nature of the bar. Everyone was ready for a fight. Judging by the sudden booming coming from the dance floor, Jyn’s suspicions about that suitcase were right.

Then Cassian was there, leaning over the bar with his blaster out, holding a hand down to her. Jyn let him haul up, sliding over the counter under his cover, pulling out her truncheons.

“Back exit,” he said, ushering her towards it. Jyn cleared the way, knocking sentients to the sides with her truncheons, while Cassian covered their backs with his blaster.

They burst out into the night, but the air there was no relief. It was just as stifling as within the bar, but at least the fight seemed to be contained, participants revelling in the violence, rather than escape.

Jyn scanned the rooftops and found them empty. She was right – lookouts for a bar fight, probably gone to join the fray.

They took half a second to tuck their weapons out of sight before stepping out of the alley together, moving in rhythm, shoulder to shoulder. Their steps were quick, short. They would be running, if they just lifted their knees, but kept it to a swift walk to avoid attracting eyes. They didn’t stop moving until they reached the ship, locking the doors behind them but delaying takeoff. If they took off now, and that fight became a riot, it would look far too suspicious.

Cassian touched the small of her back as he navigated around her, sliding towards the cockpit. They had planted several cameras strategically across the platform, which he was probably going to check on. Jyn paused to slam the door shut, sliding the lock home and holding it for a moment, reflecting on what just happened. In a whole galaxy, she’d run into that leech. She should’ve known; she’d heard he’d been lurking around cesspools like Nal Hutta, bleeding whatever crime lords he could for credits.

Jyn shucked her jacket and scarf, tossing them onto a nearby bench. They hadn’t been sprinting, but they’d gotten as close as they could without sticking out, and she took a moment to catch her breath and mop up the sweat.  

Cassian appeared, hand curled around the doorframe, “We’re clear.”

Jyn nodded, raking her bangs back from her face. She reached up to yank the tie from her hair, where it had half-tumbled out. She worked her fingers roughly through the rat’s nest tangles, gritting her teeth as her fingers caught on particularly bad knots. She caught Cassian watching her, his expression odd. “What?”

Cassian shook his head, straightening and holding the doorframe loosely. He looked at the floor, the walls – anywhere but at her as she re-tied her hair, twisting it around and tying her elastic back around it. “I just,” he paused, and his cheek concaved as he chewed on it. “You said he was your ex. Like an ex-boyfriend?”

She fought back a smile, endeared beyond belief at his efforted nonchalance. Dropping her hands from her finished bun, she took a step towards him. “Yes,” she said, “He was part of the Partisans, seventeen when I was fifteen.” She shifted to look over Cassian’s shoulder, dropping into the memory. “He figured out who I was and tried to turn me over to the Imps for profit. Saw and I caught him.”

She flicked her eyes back to his face and found concern, like she would still be hurt after her crush had turned out to be a dick. She accepted his hand in her hair, brushing her bangs from her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Jyn shrugged, considering dragging it out a bit, so he would keep touching her. Cassian strived to keep it professional on missions, even when it was just the two of them. She liked causing the stumble. “It was a long time ago,” she said, “And I got even.”

Cassian smiled, then licked his lips, looking like he was trying very hard to be casual again. His eyes dropped to her collarbone, which he traced with his thumb, finding the notch left over from when she broke it during a smuggling drop gone wrong. There was a half-healed love bite over it, boldly on display now that she’d shed her scarf. He shifted, opening and closing his mouth a couple times. “I,” he started, then stopped. “In my,” but those weren’t the words he meant either. Jyn watched him, a little pleased that he was the one struggling with his words for once, and she was the one that needed to be patient.

Cassian finally worked his mouth around the words, “I’ve never done that. I – there were men and women that I’ve spent time with, but never anything serious. Nothing that lasted.”

He stared very determinedly down at her collarbone, and Jyn decided she liked him like this: bashful, because of her. It made it easier to answer a question that would’ve embarrassed her without it. A warm feeling unfolding in her chest as he offered those words to her, putting them on level ground. He matched her vulnerability. Met her in the middle. It made her toes curl in her shoes.

She thought for a moment, forming her response. “I don’t have much experience with this, either. Dax was the only one that lasted longer than a few hours, and that was all stupid stuff, nothing serious – sitting with each other at meals, and… yeah.”

Cassian’s thumb slid along the mark he’d given her again. The memory slid over her again, wrapping like a blanket around her.

She’d just come home from a mission, and didn’t even make it to the bed before Cassian reached her, pressing her up against the door in a kiss. He’d left her lips to travel down her neck, settling on her collarbone, pressing their words into her bone. _Welcome home_.

The memory made her brave, made her inch towards him, “This is different, though.” She said clumsily, not quite thinking her words through first, though she knew the sentiment she was trying to convey. “You’re not my boyfriend.”

She realized her mistake the second she said it, because Cassian’s thumb went still on her collarbone, his face going suddenly, terrifyingly closed-off. Didn’t he just tell her about his inexperience? Didn’t he _just_ flash some insecurity?

Her hands shot out for him. She could see him diving into the pit of self-doubt in his stomach; he kept it well-fed, and Jyn was determined to make it starve.

“Cass,” she said quickly, using the nickname to call him back from the edge. It worked; the nickname usually only passed her lips when they were in their bunk late at night, and its appearance here, out in the open, was a violation of an unspoken rule. But this was more important. Cassian’s eyes flickered to hers in surprise, and she stared at the earth-brown she found there, letting it ground her own quickly-spiralling panic.

“The word boyfriend,” she started. Now she was the awkward one. “It’s not enough for you,” she said, and the closed-off look on his face dripped away. “You’re my partner. I trust you, with everything. You’re the first...” She forced herself to look him in the face, and said recycled words, because they were easier to say, and summed up everything she meant to say anyways. “You’re the first to stick around. You offered me a home, Cassian, that’s more than other people have ever done for me. Boyfriend isn’t enough.”

Jyn had been to Tatooine once, when she was working with the Partisans on tracing some Imperial connections. They planned to sabotage a weapons route going through Jabba the Hutt’s palace. Jyn hadn’t seen it to fruition, as she’d been eight at the time, and even Saw thought that was too young for anything more than planting the bombs that would halt the caravan long enough for an ambush. He put her in a nearby X-Wing to watch and to learn.

She’d waited for hours before they carried out the ambush. Jyn passed the time by watching out the window, and what she remembered most was how bright the two suns were, and how beautiful they were, despite the heat. Jyn could’ve stared at them all day, if Saw hadn’t tugged on her braids and told her to watch herself, or she’d lose all the sight in her eyes.

Cassian’s smile reminded her of the warning now, and she almost worried she’d burn up, if he kept looking at her like that. She didn’t mind.

“Partners,” he said, breaking his rule of professionalism and tugging her hand, bumping his forehead against hers. His smile was lovely, warming her all the way to her toes.

///

Jyn was startled out of her sleep, eyes flinging open and she reacted automatically, just as she would to catch herself when she fell. She sprung up, turning to see Cassian, twitching beside her, breathing short and sharp. Jyn leaned forward on her knees, wrapping her hands around his jaw. “Cass, Cass, wake up, it’s a dream.”

Cassian continued to twitch, his leg bouncing as he tried to outrun someone in his sleep, the other one dead and still. She combed his sweaty bangs back, “Cass, wake up, come on.”

His eyes didn’t open, but his twitching slowed, and became less violent. She’d long since learned that anything more than words made it worse, and the only way to pull him from the trench of a nightmare was by calling him out of it.

“Cass,” she said, thumbs stroking, “C’mon, Cass.”

His eyes suddenly flung open as he shot up into a sitting position. But Jyn was ready, catching him and holding him tightly against her chest. His shoulders started to shake as his arms shot out to twine around her, digging his fingers into her. Jyn held him tightly back. “Breathe,” she told him, “Just breathe.”

When it became less ragged, she said, “Where are you, Cassian? I need to hear you.”

It was a lesson pressed upon her from Saw: ground yourself, dig yourself into the earth and remind yourself of where you were. Saw was rough, but those that ended up with the Partisans were normally those that had had it the worst from the Imps: families slaughtered, themselves tortured, riddled with trauma and battle scars. That kind of agony could be stuffed into caves in their minds, but that wouldn’t stop it from clawing its way out and thrashing its ugly teeth. Saw didn’t just teach Jyn how to shoot troopers; he taught her how to gut that trauma-born beast, and send it tumbling back into that little hell, until next time.

“Echo Base,” Cassian replied, voice shaky against her neck. “Bunks. Our room. Our bed.”

“That’s good,” Jyn said, putting a hand on his thigh and pressing him down into the mattress. He helped her, digging himself into the bed, grounding himself like she taught him, and Saw taught her. His hands tightened around her, almost to the point of being painful. But even wrapped up in all that panic and horror, he held himself back from that.

Half the fight of the war was the trauma. When Cassian wasn’t waking her, she was waking Cassian. Nightmares had been the second intimacy between them, second only to nearly dying together. The first night that she’d slept without sedation in the medbay, she woke screaming, with Cassian struggling to get out of bed to get to her. She’d followed him to his bed after being discharged, and hadn’t left since.

Jyn combed her fingers carefully through Cassian’s hair, feeling his breath grow less ragged as he breathed against her. She whispered in his ear, telling him that they were on Hoth, that it was cold, that it was nearly three in the morning. She repeated facts over and over again, anything she could say to confirm their presence on base, and to scrape away the vivid nightmare.

“Scarif,” he finally said, interrupting her narration about their bed. “We were on Scarif. Kay didn’t – he shorted before he reached you. The memory disk was destroyed.”

Jyn pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, the quickest available spot for her. “I’m here,” she said, “I’m here. We can go find Kay right now, if you want.”

Cassian shook his head. “Just… just stay here, a while.”

Jyn nodded, kissing him again. Cassian pulled her a little closer.

///

“This is stupid,” Jyn declared, arms crossed as she glared at Bodhi. He was bent over the vendor’s table, closely examining some delicate-looking knick-knacks. They had no reason to be in the market, other than killing time while they waited for Chirrut and Baze to round the planet and pick them up. The Guardians were completing their own objective in another city, a few miles west of them, but should be by soon.

Jyn and Bodhi had been handed the easier job of the two, which wasn’t saying much, considering that Chirrut and Baze’s mission entailed meeting an old friend. She had a lot of credits and a lot of anger for the Empire, one of the few survivors of the decimation of Jedha. While Chirrut and Baze were handed a large sum of credits, Jyn and Bodhi were to pick up a data chip, planted by a deep-cover Intelligence agent when his ship made a pitstop on the planet. Bodhi had already checked the chip and confirmed it was what they were looking for, and even managed to scan the chip for bugs. Now they just had to wait for Baze and Chirrut to return from their meeting, which they’d already radioed to say they’d wrapped up. They had about an hour to kill before the Guardians reached them.

Bodhi had suggested they stroll the marketplace, and only revealed his motive once they had reached the heart of it. Jyn didn’t know _how_ he knew, but he reminded her that her and Cassian’s anniversary was coming up, and _it was a great time to get him his gift_. Jyn had heard of exchanging gifts on an anniversary, of course, but she thought it was something that belonged in a holofilm, not real life.

“My parents never did this,” she argued as Bodhi picked up a beautiful and fragile metal flower that would serve no purpose beyond sitting around as clutter. Cassian would hate it.

“Your parents were on the run from the Empire, and were stranded on an uninhabited planet,” Bodhi answered. He examined the flower for another moment, then appeared to the same conclusion as Jyn, putting it down. “They were in the middle of a war. Maybe that didn’t have the opportunity to get something special for each other.”

“ _We’re_ in the middle of a war,” Jyn protested.

“Or maybe they just kept it private,” Bodhi said, tugging the snare tightly shut around her ankle. Jyn and Cassian were still keeping things quiet, determined not to become the subjects of base gossip any more than they already were. Most of the attention had shifted to the Big Damn Heroes – Leia, Solo, and Tenderfoot. Jyn had no wish to call it back to them, by fulfilling some rebel gossip prophecy.

Of course, Rogue One knew they were together, and knew they were living together. But it wasn’t like they sent out weekly updates on their relationship. Jyn wasn’t even sure how Bodhi knew the date of their first kiss in order to measure out an anniversary for it.

Bodhi stopped and looked at her, sending her a sweet smile. “It’s not about a gift exchange. It’s about showing your partner that you love them, and that you’re thinking of them. It’s not the gesture, not the gift.”

Jyn sighed, watching Bodhi as he examined some other artisanal creation. They were beautiful, but – Cassian would never want something like that. It would take up space, and he wouldn’t have anywhere to put it, so it would either get crushed by a datapad on the desk, or get knocked to the floor and get crushed by a boot instead.

Cassian would want something he could use – something he _needed_ , if he ever let himself need anything. Jyn looked to the next table, housing homemade candles. A possibility, but it seemed shallow. How would they light it? A blaster shot?

The table after the candles caught her attention, covered in swaths of rich fabric. A soft blue caught her eye, and Jyn was reminded of a few weeks ago, when she had laid with her head on Cassian’s chest while he told her about snow that turned blue as the sun set.

She’d curled around him and listened to him speak about Fest – a rarity, even after all the time they’d spent together. He told her all about the snow, and the squat little homes, listening to his voice even after he switched languages, when he thought she’d fallen asleep. She listened to the fondness in his voice instead, picking out the Festian words she did know – _azul, estrella, noche_.

Chirrut and Baze picked them up as planned, but delays in takeoff meant they only landed on base with a few minutes left before Cassian was scheduled to ship out. Jyn was off the ship before they’d fully landed, blanket clutched to her chest as she searched out the familiar U-Wing. She spotted him quickly, disappearing up the cargo ramp, and rushed over. The clock on the wall said they should’ve been completing final flight checklists, not still loading. They must’ve been running behind.

Jyn kept an eye on the engine, making sure it stayed asleep as she quickened her step. But Kay emerged from the cargo doors and started away from the U-Wing – maybe they’d forgotten something. As soon as Jyn stepped into the ship, however, she realized his purpose; Cassian was waiting for her, and he must’ve asked Kay for a moment of privacy.

“Is everything okay?” He asked immediately, reaching for her. “You were supposed to be back hours ago. I kept stalling Kay.” He smiled a little, “I don’t think he’s very happy with me.”

Jyn thought back to what she’d just seen; Kay had been stomping, though he always stomped. Maybe it _was_ heavier than usual.

“Don’t worry, he’ll blame me,” Jyn replied, albeit fondly. She shook her head in response to his question. “Just air traffic. There was a backup at control, and we were stuck for ages.” Cassian nodded, then his eyes dropped down. Jyn remembered what she was holding in her arms belatedly, and raised it for him to see. “It’s our anniversary,” she stated, sound how awkward it was, and corrected, “I – happy anniversary.”

Cassian’s face broke out into that Tatooine-sun smile, and goddammit. Bodhi was right. This was the opposite of stupid.

Cassian reached forward to touch the blanket, feeling the soft, heavy fabric.

“You get cold at night,” she said, staring at the blanket, like he didn’t know. She felt the strangest urge to justify herself; it was probably a remnant of Saw, always demanding a justification. Always setting her on the defense. She took a breath and shoved the explanation out instead of down, “The colour reminded me of what you were saying about Fest, and how the snow looks blue at dusk.”

Cassian held out his hands and she gave it to him, watching closely as he ran his hands over it, examining the colour and the weave. Then he stretched an arm around her, drawing her in for a hug and pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Happy anniversary, Jyn,” he said against her hairline. “I left you something back in the room. I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you before we had to leave.”

Kay’s voice rang out as he approached the shuttle, giving them appropriate warning for his arrival. He’d learned to do that the hard way. “I have allotted three minutes for your mating ritual. Previous data suggests this is enough.”

Jyn was laughing when he stooped to climb into the ship, the lights of his eyes focalizing on her. Was that a sex joke, from _Kay_? He’d been spending too much time with Tenderfoot’s artoo unit.

“Ah. Jyn Erso can no longer delay our launch. In the future, attempt to arrive on time, so as not to delay other missions.” He lumbered his way to the cockpit and Jyn called after him.

 “You wouldn’t be standing there if not for me, target practice,” Jyn said, but it was hard to muster up any kind of venom, her tone more teasing. Kay continued to the cockpit.

“If you had not rebooted me, there was a ninety-eight-point-four percent chance that Cassian would reboot me in a week. You simply beat him to it.” He paused, “Any injury you would sustain on your upcoming mission would impact the base negatively. I request that you avoid any such situation.”

She smiled proudly, knowing she’d worked her way into his circuits just as he’d annoyed his way under her skin.

She would be heading out on the mission to Onderon the next morning, bright and early; it seemed like Kay had been reading up on her assignments. Jyn smirked, knowing that _the base_ was code for _Rogue One_ , and that he included himself in it. He clomped obnoxiously to the cockpit, and Jyn heard the engines start in a very unsubtle hint for Jyn to get out. Cassian kissed her one last time.

“I’m scheduled to come back after you’ve taken off,” he told her, “So I’ll see you in a couple days.”

Jyn nodded, “Be safe.”

“You be safe too, Jyn. You’re going to do great.”

Jyn brought the blanket back to their room, spreading it out on their bed. She found his gift for her on her pillow – a knife in a sheath, the sheath made of a dark brown leather that matched the wrap around the hilt. Jyn pulled it out to examine the blade and found the inscription, carved with what looked like was Kay’s laser: _sharp stick_. Jyn smiled, tilting the blade to catch the light. Her lips twisted, suddenly overwhelmed by an emotion so strong that it felt like happiness and sadness at the same time.

///

Whatever galactic being that had blessed them with a relatively quiet few months – the Force, the Great Mother, Yavin, _whatever_ – suddenly decided the Scarif-debt was repaid, and things took a turn for the dramatic.

 _She_ was the one on the dangerous mission, planting and setting explosives in deep Imperial security. _She_ was the one sneaking into one of Saw’s insane booby-trapped bunker, rigged in a way that only made sense in his mad mind. _She_ was the one acting under the command of Han _was-a-smuggler-three-seconds-ago_ Solo. (Okay, that last one wasn’t fair; she was a lot worse than a smuggler before Kay hauled her ass out of prison).

But her _point_ : _Jyn_ was the one that broke into an Imperial weapons factory. _Cassian_ was supposed to be meeting a contact, an old one, that should’ve been reliable. _Jyn_ was the one sneaking onto Onderon, not only as a rebel, but as an ex-Partisan. Cassian was going to a damn rebel _stronghold_ on Mon Cala.

It was supposed to be a simple mission, taking less than twelve hours. But a breathless ensign met Jyn as she disembarked at Hoth, her own mission a resounding success. The ensign met her to cut off the high of her success, and to tell her, _Captain Andor’s in the medbay, -_

Jyn didn’t hear the rest, as she turned and sprinted away, dropping her gear as she ran down the halls.

“Captain Andor,” she said breathlessly to the admitting nurse, slamming into the administration desk in order to stop. The nurse hardly looked up from her datapad.

“Captain Andor is scheduled for a procedure and is only allowed visits from immediate family,” the nurse said blandly, finally looking up at her, “Are you immediate family?”

Jyn blinked, hands clenching on the desk, “I – “

“Sergeant Erso,” another nurse interrupted, and Jyn recognized her immediately. She’d attended to them after Scarif, one of the ten that had. She stood out because she was the nurse that had moved their beds together and told the others to leave it, since they kept crawling into each other’s. _Nothing promotes healing faster than a good support system_ , she’d snapped at another nurse that had tried to argue, _these two have the right idea._

“Follow me,” that nurse said now, and Jyn nearly tripped over her own feet to do so, all the brutal grace that she’d pounded into herself forgotten. “Captain Andor sustained a blaster wound to the shoulder. Luckily, it missed all vital organs and veins, but it was enough to weaken and snap his collarbone. He’s scheduled for a bacta treatment in an hour. I just administered a painkiller, but he should be awake for a few more minutes.”

She said it all with the brisk, un-interrupt-able tone that Jyn had learned to expect from nurses. Jyn didn’t ask questions, her hand automatically locked around her kyber crystal, her knees close to knocking. A broken collarbone was fine. He’d be fine. A broken collarbone was more than survivable; with access to bacta, it was barely a blip on a radar of injuries. But it still felt like someone shoved a rock down her throat.

The nurse stopped in the doorway, looking in on Cassian, “Captain Andor, your wife is here.”

But she looked at Jyn on the word _wife_ , raising her eyebrows. Jyn nodded, taking the hint, and the nurse bustled off to see another patient. Jyn didn’t log that maybe they weren’t as discreet as they thought, because she was too busy taking the quick steps required to reach Cassian’s bedside.

He was sitting up, the back of the bed elevated to hold him. He looked exhausted, like the painkiller was starting to set in. Jyn took in the bandages across his bare shoulder, his arm already in a sling across his chest. Cassian was pale from the pain, but his sunshine smile lit up when he saw her. It wasn’t as bright as usual, probably from sheer exhaustion; rather than high noon, it read dusk.

“Jyn.”

“Karking hell, Cassian,” Jyn said, the first words that popped into her head spilling from her mouth. She slid her hand over his good one, gently at first, but adding her other hand once he squeezed back. “I thought this was an easy mission.”

Cassian’s smile went a bit dopey, then he grunted with pain as he lifted his good hand. Jyn didn’t want to try to stop him, worried she’d hurt him more, and let his hand fall on her collarbone. “We match,” he said, his thumb finding the dent.

Jyn eyed him, lifting his hand carefully from her collarbone and guiding it gently back to his side. Her lips twitched as he groaned, seemingly in protest. Cassian tried to sit up and Jyn put a hand on his ribs, keeping him down. He was blinking slowly, his pupils blown wide. “Jyn,” her name was a little slurred, too much teeth in the first letter. “They said – you’re not allowed. I asked – “

“Don’t worry about that,” she said, smoothing his hair from his forehead. He smiled, shut his eyes and leaned his head back, preening like a loth-cat. The drug was definitely starting to set in. “How are you doing? You okay?”

Cassian hummed, relaxing back and watching her with a smile that was increasingly goofy. Jyn narrowed her eyes at him. “Cass? You okay?”

“Pretty Jyn,” he said happily, reaching for her jaw with his good hand. He twitched at the movement, injured arm jerking, but tried to ignore it as Jyn guided him back down, holding his hand in place at his side. “Lovely Jyn. Lovely, lovely Jyn.” And then he collapsed into Festian, saying something that sounded that sounded beautiful, but Jyn didn’t catch a word of.

“Hey, woah,” Jyn said. “You feeling okay?” How strong was that painkiller?

Cassian answered in Festian, too fast, again, to parse anything out, but he sounded happy enough. Jyn smiled at him in return, the panic that shot through her at the ensign’s words finally starting to dissipate. He was high as an x-wing, but he seemed comfortable. Jyn leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to his knuckles, the action enough to slow his chattering. She left her mouth on his knuckles, tilting her head to look up at him.

“Te amo,” he said quietly, and that one she knew. She smiled.

“Te amo, Cassian.”

///

“Where are you from?”

Cassian’s voice always had a musical lilt to it, and that didn’t change in the dark of their room, a week after he’d been discharged. Speaking out into the silence of the room, even with the constant hum from the hall, should’ve been cacophonous, but Cassian’s voice blended into the peace, instead of shattering it.

His question interrupted her thoughts about his collarbone, the worry playing a low thrum in the back of her mind, like a radio playing quietly in the background. The bacta had done its job, healing him to the point of mild bruising, as she’d made the nurse assure her several times. But it didn’t stop the worry; only time would ease that.

In their position, his words tangled in her hair, his breath warm against the back of her neck. His head and chest were positioned back a little, so he could breathe, but his arm was curled around her, tangled with her fingers against her chest. Their hips were pressed togethers, legs curled in on one another. Jyn’s worry wasn’t eased by the position, though his unbruised shoulder was supporting him. But Cassian was the one who curled on his side first, pulling her to him, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. He must not have been in pain, then.

Jyn paused, thinking about the answer. He knew she spent her earliest years on Coruscant, but that wasn’t what he was asking. He wasn’t asking about her home, either. He was asking for what she claimed as hers; not her home, but her homeland.

She shut her eyes and thought of all of her nebulous origins. Vallt, the first place she’d ever been, a blank space in her memory. Coruscant, which she could only remember in vague flashes of fear, her mother’s face always grave and serious. Lah’mu, where she had been happy, if naively. But Lah’mu was always meant to be temporary, Saw always promising a new hideout in the words, Lyra and Galen never trying to fashion furniture beyond the bare minimum, never trying to make their home into anything more than utilitarian. _It’s only temporary_ , they used to whisper, sometimes to each other, more often to themselves. So quiet and so often that it was more of a prayer. Lah’mu was never supposed to be permanent, and it wasn’t. But Galen had expected, and Lyra had hoped for, a different ending.

Then there was her time with Saw. She’d spent time on Onderon, Jedha, Tatooine, Tamsye Prime, and so many other planets that she couldn’t remember all their names. Some were named in languages she couldn’t speak because she didn’t have the biology to make those sounds. Some were nothing more than strings of numbers. After Saw, there was just as much planet hopping, running her way through the Outer Rim, crossing planets that didn’t have names, reflecting her own namelessness. She didn’t spend longer than a month anywhere with Saw, or a week anywhere after him. The longest place she’d spent time since Lah’mu was Wobani, and that hardly counted as an answer for Cassian’s question.

She tried to parse it out. Anything after Saw felt too late to classify as an origin. Yavin IV and Hoth, for all their faults, were the only places she’d classify as home since the early days with Saw. But that classification had nothing to do with the planets themselves.  They were the first places she’d belonged since Lah’mu, but they were too late to be origins.

Finally, she spoke quietly, trying not to disrupt the peace of their room. “I was born in a ship, on the way to a place called Vallt. That’s the first planet I was ever on.” Born in space – that was why her father called her _Stardust_ , because she was born among them. “But I don’t remember it. Mama said it was cold. We went to Coruscant shortly after, but I didn’t leave our apartment often. We weren’t allowed.”

She paused, stirring over the galaxy she’d explored. Jyn interlaced her fingers with Cassian’s, who was still patiently waiting. He was always so patient with her. There were a lot of traits that she loved about him, and that was one of the best.

“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I don’t – feel like I’m _from_ anywhere. I’ve been all over. It’s never been about the place. It’s always about the people.”

A shard of sadness dug into her for that, about the size and weight of her kyber crystal, right in the middle of her heart. She had no place that she could return to and say _here_ , this _is where I’m from_.

Cassian must’ve felt the sadness cord through her, because he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, pausing for a moment, so that when he spoke, his beard scratched her skin, and his words leeched into her spine.

“You’re from so many places, Jyn,” he said, “You’re all over the galaxy.” He laughed, short and soundless, so she only knew it from his breath exploding over her skin. “ _Stardust_.”

There he was, weaving her insecurities into gold. Jyn pressed back into him, pulling his hand more securely around her.

“Why do you ask?”

“I want to know about you,” Cassian said, easy. But there was something there, just a tick, that tipped her off. The answer was quick. Cassian was a spy, and he knew how to lie – but she knew _him_. He was planning something. But she didn’t say anything else, letting herself get distracted by Cassian’s mouth, kissing her again. She let him kiss her for a while, before she grew impatient, turning over. She swung a leg over his waist, leaving more of her weight in her knees and hands as she pressed her mouth to his collarbone, hooking her tongue in the crevice that matched hers.

///

A few weeks passed, and Jyn got caught up in missions Onderon proved to be the turning point she’d hoped for. Most of her missions were with Cassian, usually with Kay as well, and all of her missions were with at least one member of Rogue One. Draven seemed to finally catch on to what a great team they were. But Jyn had never called him a fast learner.

She almost forgot Cassian’s question, just one of the dozens of conversations they had in their dark room to sketch out their histories, telling the stories behind the scars mapped out on their bodies. She almost forgot his casually calculated question. Almost.

Jyn was just finishing up on some repairs to their U-Wing, replacing some wiring and the outer panels that had burned up over them. She, Bodhi, and Kay had a bit of a close call over Ord Mantell. They’d run into a stray TIE, probably making rounds and trying to prevent exactly what they were doing: trying to squeeze past security by taking a smaller ship. Kay was able to jam its radio, which gave Jyn the time to blow it out of the sky, while Bodhi calculated their jump. They shot off before they could catch anyone else’s attention, but not before that TIE had crept up on them and caused a little damage.

Cassian found her on one of the maintenance platforms, feet dangling and knees spread wide, to avoid the sparks bouncing off her welding torch. She used one hand to hold a broken pair of googles to her face, tracing the last line of a new panel. When she finished, she was careful to turn off the torch before she lifted away the goggles, knowing first hand what happened when you didn’t. Saw was always short on tools, and liked to make use of his prisoners.

“I heard you ran into some trouble,” Cassian called up to her, alerting her to his presence. She looked down at him with a half-smile, loading all her stuff back into her toolbox.

“Nothing exciting,” she said, leaning her elbows against the bar in front of her.

She could tell he was biting back a smile by the way he twisted his cheek. “Kay seemed pretty excited when I spoke to him a couple minutes ago.”

Jyn smirked, “If Kay _didn’t_ have a spark in his ass, I’d be worried.” She planted her hands on the bar in front of her and slid out, twisting athletically and dropping to land beside him. She _could’ve_ taken the ladder, but – maybe she was showing off a little bit. He seemed impressed, but he always seemed impressed with her.

“I’ve got a few more repairs to make inside,” she said, and Cassian nodded, reaching above her and taking down her toolbox for her. She tilted her head, stepping around him and into the ship, and he followed without a word. Jyn shut and locked the door, mindful that Kay was lurking, and took the toolbox from Cassian’s hands, setting it on the floor.

“Where’s the repair?” He asked innocently, but he was still twisting his cheek, still fighting back his smile. She was rarely apart from him for more than a couple days, and today’s mission had been less than twelve hours. All the same – _she’d missed him_.

Jyn reached up and locked her fingers behind his neck, dragging him down and stepping backwards until she bumped her back against the wall. She kissed him – gentler than she used to, she was getting better at that. She’d had a lot of practice. But Cassian was making it hard, smiling against her mouth instead of kissing her. She nipped at his bottom lip, trying to give him a hint. But Cassian laughed into her mouth instead.

He pulled back. Jyn kept her eyes closed for a moment, trying to temper the light feeling in her chest. “Hold on,” he said, releasing her hips. His hands were back on her in a moment, pulling her one hand off his chest, and uncurling her fingers. Jyn opened her eyes to see him deposit a piece of flimsy into her open palm, meticulously folded into a small square.

Cassian was looking at her through his eyelashes, chin dipped in the way he did when he was nervous or particularly bashful. Jyn remembered that look from their first time, where every article of clothing shed had him peering through his eyelashes, giving her distance to breathe before she pulled him back in. It made her feel warm and, beyond anything, _safe_. That was everything.

Then he clasped his hand around hers, closing the flimsy in her fist and preventing her from opening it. Jyn watched him make a decision in his head, then he was stepping back, still holding her hand and pulling her with him to the cockpit, coaxing her to sit in the pilot’s seat. He took the co-pilot’s seat, swivelling it towards her. His hand was still around hers, keeping the flimsy hidden.

“Do you remember when I was in the medbay a few weeks ago?”

The question caught her a little off guard, her eyebrows knitting. She nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“I was thinking about the nurse,” he said, which caught her off guard again. “And what she said about you. What she called you, actually.”

Then it clicked. A dose of panic trudged down her throat, like a particularly thick shot of caf. _Wife_ , the nurse had said, eyebrows raised, a white lie to get her in. But maybe it wasn’t so trivial. She flushed, stumbling to explain herself, her mind vaulting to all those walls Cassian had built, and now she’d so blatantly overstepped one.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said quickly, “They just said – “

“Immediate family only,” he said. “I remember. You didn’t overstep. Do you remember when I asked you about where you were from?”

Jyn blinked, finding it hard to keep up. But he must’ve had a point he was building towards; Cassian never did anything without a purpose. She nodded, leaving the words to him instead.

“I wanted to try to find the tradition from your home planet,” he said, almost ruefully, his thumb gliding across her fist. He wouldn’t meet her eye, like he was afraid to. “But you couldn’t name one, so I decided to go with Fest’s, instead.”

Gently, he squeezed her fist, then released it. He finally looked at her and Jyn studied him, looking for a clue to his odd behaviour. But his face didn’t set off any alarm bells – there was no haunted look, no outright panic, no fear. Just nervousness. He smiled a little timidly, the way he did when they were standing out in the hangar or the mess, trying to conceal his tells but not quite able to. Carefully, he pulled her fingers back, freeing the flimsy. Jyn opened it to find a string of numbers that she recognized.

“Our door code?” She asked, puzzled. Cassian nodded, a little too quick.

“On Fest,” he said quickly, licking his lips. “We didn’t have ceremonies, or parties. It was too cold for large gatherings like that, our buildings too small. The tradition was to give someone the key to your home, so they knew they were always welcome.” He folded his fingers, leaning towards her with his eyes on the flimsy. “Homes meant a lot more on Fest than they do in other places, it’s kind of hard to describe. But Fest was so cold that homes were everything – they were a symbol of endurance, and family, and life, essentially. They were difficult to build, especially in the villages where I was from, because supplies were so hard to come by. Giving your house key was like offering someone a permanent place in your life.”

He scooted forward in his chair, threading his knees with hers. His hand clasped her free one, kissing her knuckle briefly. “I couldn’t get what the nurse said out of my head. You’re my family already, Jyn, but I want it to be written somewhere too. I want it to be recorded.” He took a deep breath, still not looking her in the face, as he rushed out, “There’s benefits, too – updates on mission statuses, automatic notifications on medical emergencies, a bigger bed.” He smiled, “And – it might make it harder to get missions together, but I’ve already spoken to Mothma – I didn’t say your name, or anything forthright – but I think she knew, anyways. She’s agreed to let us continue on our missions as usual.” He caught himself rambling and took a deep breath, rising her knuckles to his mouth and his eyes to her face. “But if that’s not what you want – I would be honored to have whatever you’ll give me, Jyn.”

Jyn looked down at their door code, and thought it was kind of perfect for them. They could never have rings, which was the norm on Coruscant, or tattoos, like her parents. But a code, a password, to _home_.

“You’re asking me to marry you?” She clarified, looking up at him, just to be sure. Cassian nodded slowly, holding her eye contact. Jyn smiled, feeling a little chocked. Saw was wheezing, somewhere out in the stars; her parents were probably smiling, maybe even crying. Chirrut was _definitely_ smirking, and Baze would probably tuck her into his side and call her _little sister_ when he heard; Bodhi would be so happy, hugging and kissing them both. Kay would probably complain about being stuck with her progeny for generations, but he would not try to talk them out of it, and would probably bully them into scheduling the submission of their forms strategically, so as to run into as little delay as possible –  

Jyn looked up at Cassian, and felt like someone had turned down the gravity, leaving her breathless and floating. Cassian brought out a softness in her that she hadn’t known existed. It was something warm and gentle, like a double sunrise.

She tugged on his arm and he slipped to his knees before her. He leaned in to meet her in the middle, pressing their foreheads together. She gave her answer.

**Author's Note:**

> She says YES, don’t panic. I was trying to be ~artsy~
> 
> Most of this fic was planned while I wasn’t paying attention in church. 
> 
> Questions? Comments? Critiques? Not even just about the fic. Tell me about your inappropriate church daydreams. I’m on [tumblr](clytemnestrad.tumblr.com).


End file.
